


Diamond in the Rough

by WildcatPacer



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 17:33:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14878223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildcatPacer/pseuds/WildcatPacer
Summary: For the longest time, I have searched for a fanfic that has Katniss and Peeta fall in love as mature adults in District 12, without the help of the Hunger Games. Unable to find a satisfying one, I decided to write such a fic myself. Everyone, please enjoy, and do REVIEW! I don't write for them, but your comments are always appreciated!





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: An Awkward Proposal**

I stand in line along with the other 18-year-old girls of District 12, fiddling with the hem of my blue Reaping dress. My nerves are multiplied seven times more than they usually are, as this is the seventh and final time I will ever have to stand here and wonder if I have been selected for death. Death by lottery. My possibly physical murder would come later, but if you are Reaped for District 12 for the Hunger Games, than you are going to die. Guaranteed. In 75 years, we have only ever had two Victors. And only one of them - a drunken embarrassment - is still alive.

My heart leaps into my throat as Effie Trinket, our district escort, approaches the glass ball containing all the Girls names. Thinking of my 14-year-old little sister, Primrose, I squeeze my eyes shut and plead for mercy for us both: _Not me. Or Primrose. Not an Everdeen, not an Everdeen, not an Everdeen..._

"Daisy Schaberg!" A Merchant girl, most likely, with that name. And younger than me, but older than Prim, as I see the blond little thing emerge from the 16-year-old Girls section.

It isn't me. The tribute isn't me. Just like that, I am free from the Hunger Games forever. The Peacekeepers cannot stop the great cheer that goes up among us 18-year-olds. All around me, I watch as many boys get down on one knee.

It is an unofficial tradition in District 12, for teenagers who have survived their last Reaping to propose to their sweethearts. With the rest of their lives suddenly open and clear - well, at least clearer than it is having the Games constantly hanging over their heads - and because time is precious, no one wants to waste any more of it before getting going with life.

No one would ever propose to me, though. I've never had a boyfriend or sweetheart, and I never will. I vowed when I was still a child that I would never get married or have children of my own. I have seen the dark side of the power of love... and it scares me.

I still stand where I was made to take my place in line earlier this morning, waiting for Primrose or Mother to come find me in the crowd. And indeed, I suddenly hear a call of my name, but it is neither one of my family members. And it certainly isn't Effie Trinket, thank Panem! This voice is distinctly... male.

"Katniss Everdeen!"

I turn at the greeting to see a handsome Merchant youth with ashy blonde hair and deep blue eyes approaching me with a nervous smile. He is in my year in school, and the little that I know about him is that he is the Baker's youngest son, and also the best wrestler in probably all of District 12. Oh, and also his name. I know his name.

"Peeta Mellark," I nod, surprised that he has addressed me at all. Though we have been classmates for years, we have never spoken at all. We only interacted once, silently, and that was a long time ago...

Peeta Mellark approaches me with a quiet earnestness. It might just be my imagination, but he seems to be shaking slightly. He really should get into the shade and quickly; folks have fainted from heatstroke during the Reaping before. And it is never a good sight to watch the Peacekeepers haul those unconscious bodies away. Haymitch Abernathy, our district's second and only living Victor, fainted from heat exhaustion right off the stage one year; the Capitol replayed it throughout that entire Hunger Games, and for several weeks after.

"I need to tell you something," Peeta informs me seriously.

I blink, a little confused. "OK. What is it? My mother and sister are waiting..."

As I watch in complete astonishment, Peeta Mellark bashfully pulls out a ring and kneels before me. "I have loved you since we were in kindergarten. And I will continue to love you your whole life if you will let me. Katniss Everdeen, will you marry me?"

I gape at him. My entire jaw hangs loose in complete and utter shock. I quickly glance from side to side all around me, as if I am the witness to Peeta committing some crime and I fear someone will misconstrue me as a willing accomplice. Thankfully, most kids our age are kneeling before everyone else, so the strange tableau of a Merchant boy proposing to a young Seam woman blends in. Though, for obvious reasons, it really shouldn't.

My cheeks burn aflame. This has to be a joke. This has to be the sickest joke that anyone has ever pulled. Perhaps the culprit is Gale Hawthorne, to congratulate me for surviving the Reaping in his own twisted way. But how would my hunting partner and best friend - happily married now himself - know to recruit Peeta Mellark, of all the boys in the whole damn district it could have been?

No, the real trickster is the young man still kneeling before me, his blue eyes dimming in slight concern as he realizes I still have yet to answer. Nevertheless, the blue orbs retain a glimmer of hope.

I awkwardly laugh, the chuckle betraying how offended I am. "Are you _insane_?" I hiss at him. "We don't know each other! You're Merchant; I'm Seam! You really want to throw away your good life for me? If this is some kind of practical joke, it is not funny! So, No! Absolutely not!"

And turning on my heel, I run away to find my family, not noticing the crestfallen expression on Peeta Mellark's face.

* * *

As Primrose and Mother and I walk through the thinning streets back to our home in the Seam, I let my anger stew and simmer and fester like an infected wound. Who is he? Who is he with his  _'marry me'_? With his ring and his  _'marry me'_? The nerve! The gall!

Like I said, Peeta Mellark and I hardly know each other. We had never even exchanged two words before today... and I certainly never, in my wildest dreams, would have imagined that those first two words would be one of us asking for the other's hand in marriage. If Peeta Mellark presumed to know me at all (which he doesn't), he would know my opinions on marriage.

Marriage is a silly little, pointless invention. An exercise that can only leave you vulnerable to emotions that take from you and eat away at you. I saw first-hand what marriage and romantic love can do to a person: after my father died in a mine explosion, when I was not quite yet Reaping age, Mother completely shut down. Withdrew emotionally from life. I am the one who mothered and raised Prim. At a mere eleven years old, I vowed that I would never marry anyone for any reason. I didn't want to marry and kiss and fall in love with someone who I knew death would just take away from me in the end. I never wanted to end up like Mother: a shell of my former self.

Even if Peeta Mellark knew and understood any of this, why did my first suitor have to be him, of all people? Fate is crueler than any joke Gale or anyone else could have pulled on me. I owe Peeta Mellark enough already and, oh, how I hate him for it! I hate having to owe him for the bread he tossed to me in a thick sheen of rain, when we were eleven and my father was dead and the rest of my family was starving. I was starving, and he gave me food. It is a curse I must live with, for if there is one thing that folks in the Seam take seriously, it is the concept of debt. Of obligation. Any favor you are granted, you repay the debt somehow, no matter how much time it takes. For her services as a Healer, Mother has been paid in vegetables and other goods, sometimes months after the medicinal service was rendered. Often, it is all we here in the Seam can afford.

Agonizing over things like debt and obligation, a crazy, wild thought enters my brain: Peeta Mellark literally saved my family and I from starvation. For which I never thanked him. Years later, the very least I could do to repay him would be to say Yes. Accept his proposal. Promise that I would marry him. And the opportunity to marry a Merchant... even if it would be a huge sacrifice of my principles, my marriage would ensure that Primrose and Mother have a better life. Even with their Healing business being somewhat lucrative, we are still poor. And I know of many marriages - especially in the Seam, and even a few in Town - where the couple weds based on economic dependency and alliance, not necessarily romantic love. Sometimes, romance comes after they have Toasted the bread. Sometimes not. This is what stops me from running all the way back to Town to the back door of the bakery and impulsively changing my mind, accepting Peeta's proposal. Even if I could go back on my vow of chastity, I could not do the same in my vow to never love. For Peeta and I, any marriage of ours would be a loveless one. But the poor boy is so obviously in love with me... how would agreeing to be his wife and then never allowing him to... touch me be fair to him?

Prim and Mother and I enter our simple house as I am still contemplating over what occurred today and what I intend to do about it. I sit at the kitchen table in silence, my brow furrowed with intensity, as Primrose disappears to find her ugly cat, Buttercup. Mother washes up to cook dinner at the sink. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her glancing at me with increasing concern.

"Are you all right, dear? You look very contemplative."

It is more than I can hope for that Mother would show such concern for me, her eldest daughter. Maternal affection from her has been rare these last seven years. But all the same, I feel like I need to talk to somebody, or I'll explode. So I dare to ask:

"Mother? How did you come to marry Daddy?"

For just a fraction of a moment, a trick of the light, I see Mother smile again, remembering. "Your father worked in the garden outside the apothecary shop. Your Gampy brought him on as a hired hand - there were some Seam boys who entered contracts like that, to avoid working in the mines, in those days, It was really like indentured servitude," She pauses in slicing some wild potatoes I found on a hunt. "I didn't like your father at first. I had my family's prejudices, I am ashamed to say. Didn't really speak to him. So imagine my surprise when your father proposed to me right after my last Reaping. It was... two years after Haymitch Abernathy came home, yes, that's right!"

I gawk at her with something between amazement and horror. "What did you say?" I whisper.

"No, of course," Mother laughs. "But he still came back to work in the gardens every day. That proposal actually got us to talk a little bit, get to know one another. And then... I heard him sing..." She shrugs. "And I fell in love."

"Just like that?" I breathe.

"Just like that." There is tense silence until Mother ventures: "Why do you ask?"

I take a special interest in the tabletop, blushing beet red as I mumble, "Peeta Mellark proposed to me today."

Mother gives me a funny look, almost amused, though she appears just as shocked as I was. "He's always seemed like such a nice boy. What did you tell him?"

I let out a bark of a laugh. "What do you think I told him, Mother? No! We don't know each other! He must have some puppy-love crush on me that he's never gotten over."

Mother shrugs noncommittally as she dries her hands on a tea towel. "You know, if he hadn't Toasted the bread with the Undersee girl, I always thought that Gale would have proposed to you."

I nearly fall out of my chair. Is she serious? Gale has never been seen as anything but a brother to me. The thought of the two of us married actually makes me want to laugh.

"In any case, I hope you find the right person someday, Katniss - whether it's Peeta or someone else. You never know." And Mother flits from the room to find Prim.

Mother really shouldn't get her hopes up. Besides, Primrose is the beauty of the family and still looks like a Merchant. Boys will be lining up to ask her for a Toasting. Then again, they say history has a way of repeating itself.

And if I am anything like my mother, I think I am already doomed.


	2. Damsel in a Tree

**Chapter 2: Damsel in a Tree**

It has been more than a year - a year and a half, actually - since Peeta Mellark proposed to me out of the blue. The moment still haunts me, leaving me feeling steamed at his temerity, but also gives me a sharp pang of regret. As time has gone on, I feel almost - almost... badly for how I treated him.

It is deep winter now, and an unforgiving one at that. It is already dark when I bag my last raccoon, and I know that I should have called it a night at least a half an hour ago. With my game bag bouncing over my shoulder, I hurry to the fence, to crawl under and make for home. If Mother is not necessarily concerned with where I am at this late hour, I know Primrose definitely is. It does not matter how many times I return home unscathed and not caught by the Peacekeepers - my baby sister will always fret that I will be eaten by an animal too large to fell for game. Or be finally caught red-handed by Cray and his men and thrown into the stocks.

I am a few feet away from the fence now, when I twitch my ear, cocking it to listen. There! It's the telltale hum of electricity.

The fence is back on for the night. Fuck.

Technically, the fence is supposed to be on 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. However, it is but one of the corners that Cray has cut. I imagine that for him, the loophole has been widened out of laziness. Then again, District 12 does not have a lot of extra money to spend towards the government. Electricity cuts might be seen as a necessary way to scrimp and save. Regardless of the reason, the fence's weakening has been essential in my hunting career.

All the same, I really needed it to be off right now.

Thankfully, I do have an escape route. There is a thick oak tree with a prominent branch that hangs over the fence. The drop to the ground is ten, maybe fifteen feet. I don't want to use that pathway if I can avoid it. And when I have needed to, there has always been the risk of breaking or straining something. But that's never happened before. I've never broken a bone or so much as twisted a muscle in my life. I don't expect that impeccable track record to fail me now.

I scale the tree with ease, my toned thigh muscles helping me climb higher and higher, despite how malnourished I would still consider myself. I finally reach the famous branch and begin to edge out along it. The plan before has always been to cross the branch as far out as I can without it breaking under my weight, then hang by my fingers from it, and drop to the ground. The least risk for the greatest reward: getting out of here without being electrocuted and killed.

I have almost reached what I call the drop off point, when a voice nearly makes me lose my balance and fall off prematurely: "Don't do it, Katniss!"

Startled, I wobble as I fight to regain my grip on the branch, then I look down. When I see who it is, I want to groan, and barely suppress one.

Peeta Goddamn Mellark is standing below me, just a few feet away from the fence. Does the damn fool want to get himself killed as well as me? He should know better than to wander near the fence, and at nighttime besides!

"What are you doing here?" I snap. It comes out a little harsher than even I meant it to, but really! Peeta Mellark has no business being near the fence, or anywhere within one hundred yards of the Seam, over an hour past curfew.

Peeta holds up what looks like a disjointed bundle. Peering through the gloom, the moonlight helps me make out that it is a pile of sticks. "My mother sent me out here to gather some firewood."

And that's another thing. It's freezing cold! Peeta could get frostbite out here, and I tell him so. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that you could freeze to death out here?"

"Oh, she did, but in her mind, it's better me than her! If I get caught and thrown in the stocks, at least  _she'll_  have deniability." Peeta laughs it off almost as a joke, but I can hear a tinge of bitterness in his voice. I know why. Peeta's mother is often referred to as the Witch in Seam circles. She has built a reputation of being deeply prejudiced. Her greatest love is her comfortable Merchant lifestyle, and she will apparently do anything to protect it. There are even rumors that she even beats her own sons. The thought of Peeta getting walloped oddly makes my heart constrict in this moment. Why is his mother even sending him out here, if she knows it's dangerous, in more ways than one?

I hear a tiny clatter and I watch as Peeta discards his pile of firewood to the ground. "What are you doing?" I frown.

Peeta holds out his arms to me. "Just jump! Come on, I'll catch you!"

I will allow nothing of the kind. I am not some damsel in distress! If I were to literally fall into Peeta's arms, I half-suspect that he might do something to take advantage of me. Grope me through my clothes. Or throw me down into the snow and have his way with me out here, where no one could hear me scream. Another part of my brain scolds me, attesting that Peeta Mellark is an honorable young man, and would never hurt me. The man is in love with me, after all. At the same time, something about his chirpy, innocent demeanor has always seemed phony to me, so what do I know?

I scowl at him. "The fence won't stay on forever. I can wait all night if I have to."

Peeta's brow creases in perplexion. "What are you talking about?"

I huff at his obtuseness. "The fence is not always on, Peeta. You really shouldn't believe everything the Capitol says. Are you that trusting of Cray?"

Peeta chuckles a little at my dig of our Head Peacekeeper. "No I guess not. But I've never had a reason to doubt that the fence  _wasn't_  always on."

I turn up my nose, still a little annoyed at his naivete. "Well, it's not," I report almost prissily. "Just listen."

We sit in silence for a moment. "There! Do you hear it?"

"Hear what?" he frowns.

"The humming."

Peeta listens again. I actually allow myself to watch him as he does so. I rather like the countenance his face makes, as he thinks and ponders. At last, his eyes light up like the sun. "There it is! And when it's off, there's just silence."

I can't help it. I smile at his eagerness to learn. "That's right." How strange. I have only ever reserved my smiles for Prim, and at one time, Gale. But only when he and I were ever in the woods. "How do you think I have managed to hunt all these years?"

"Good point," Peeta concedes. "I stand corrected." He doesn't move the way I expected him to, now comforted in the knowledge that the fence is not impenetrable and that I can find my own way down.

"You can go," I verbally nudge, trying to shoo him away.

"Absolutely not," Peeta shakes his head, and he takes a seat right there in the snow, next to his forgotten pile of firewood.

A tense, pregnant silence is held between us, exacerbating our separation by fifteen feet of vertical height. At last, Peeta asks:

"Won't your mother and Prim be worried about you?"

I bite my lip. "Primrose, probably," I admit at last. "My mother is not exactly the affectionate type."

Peeta's posture sags slightly. "That makes two of us."

I am about to say that my mother falls more into the Neglectful camp, rather than Abusive, but I bite my tongue. I don't want to bring up likely bad memories for Peeta about his mother.

"Were you hunting squirrels out there?" I almost glare at Peeta for his next question, my guard coming back up. What, is he trying to spy on me? Run to the Peacekeepers if it would save his neck? Oddly, he laughs at my gaze. "You're not much of a conversationalist, are you?"

Almost guiltily, I tear my gaze away. "I've never been very good at making friends," I murmur.

"That's all right. It just takes practice."

"I'm not very good at practicing, either," I admit. "Except when it comes to hunting."

Peeta chuckles. "That I can believe." Just then, somewhere in the distance, there is a crunch of snow. Peeta looks back and down the hill. Far and away, a distant streetlamp captures the white armor of a patrolling Peacekeeper. The Baker's son turns back to me, urgency in his eyes.

"Katniss, jump!" he entreats me. "I promise I won't let you hit the ground. We've really gotta go!"

I've seen the Peacekeeper too, and suspect that his patrol route will likely include the fence. Snarling in frustration, I swing my legs off the branch and scoot down until I am hanging by my fingers. I loosen my grip, inch by inch, until I finally can't hold on any longer. I let go.

I slam into something firm and warm, then tumble further backward against it. I yelp as powdered snow coats my clothes. Shaking my head to clear it, I glance up to find myself gazing into Peeta's eyes.

I can't believe it. He actually managed to catch me, and break my fall. Then again, I really shouldn't be surprised. Peeta's strong. He can lift a hundred-pound sack of flour right over his head; I've seen it. It is now that I realize I am lying practically prone on that very same muscular chest. I can only imagine it is in a  _very_  compromising position.

Frowning, I rise as gracefully as I can off from where I was pretty much... straddling him, and wince in pain. A sharp stab shoots up from near my ankle, and I just know it is sprained. Every perfect track record has to be broken sometime, I guess. My luck finally ran out.

"Are you all right?" Peeta asks, scrambling up out of the snow.

"Fine, I'm fine," I growl, waving him off.

"Here: lean on me, if you need to," and his voice is so sweetly insistent that I can't find it within me to refuse.

"Don't forget your firewood!" I remind him. Peeta looks as though he could care less whether he goes back for it, so I take it upon myself to scoop the bundle of sticks up. It's lucky I did, for we barely make it to the main road in the Seam before placing any weight on my sprained ankle becomes unbearable. The first time my stance buckles, Peeta literally sweeps me off my feet and carries me, bridal-style.

His gallantry terrifies me. Not exactly the courtesy itself, although that  _is_  part of it. No, what really leaves me scared is how...  _safe_  I feel in his arms. It is almost blasphemy, to admit even to myself how much I enjoy listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, with my head cradled against his chest.

Peeta carries me all the way to my home. If Mother seems surprised to see me in such a state, and a Merchant boy with me, she doesn't show it. But what she  _doesn't_  bother to hide is the knowing look she sends my way. I scowl. What does she  _think_  happened out there? What does she  _think_  is going to happen? If she starts to play Matchmaker, I might just strangle her alive and feed her to the cat!

Mother treats my sprained ankle as only a master Healer can. She then thanks Peeta for his help and insists he gets home. Peeta graciously refuses, saying that he can't in good conscience. Then, before I can object, he scoops me up off the kitchen table and carries me up to my bed, even going so far as to setting me down into it and tucking me in.

The medicines Mother gave me have left me feeling woozy, a little lightheaded. High, almost. So when Peeta turns to finally take his leave, I grasp his hand in mine. "Stay with me?"

He acquiesces, sitting down in a nearby chair. He even says something to me, but I don't quite catch it as the drugs pull me under.


	3. New Baker, Growing Closeness

**Chapter 3: New Baker, Growing Closeness**

From that day on, Peeta Mellark and I become something resembling friends. I guess there isn't many things you can do without helping but liking each other, and saving me from a tree and spraining my ankle is one of them.

It takes months of healing, but my ankle is soon as good as new. And before I know it, another year has gone by. I have just returned from a spring hunt as Mother is sorting the mail at our kitchen table.

Mail is a nice, rare surprise in our house. Only the biggest packages ever arrive on Parcel Day, when our district produces a Victor for the Hunger Games, so I have never experienced one. Almost always, the missives are for Mother: new medicine orders from the Capitol, bills, and even a few invoice payments from the occasional patient who can afford to pay with money. But this time, Mother seems to be sorting the mail into piles, one for each of the Everdeen women.

And there is a pile for  _me_ , with an envelope bearing my name across the top. I open it, and am surprised to find that it is from Peeta.

I can tell Mother is trying not to read over my shoulder with interest. "What is it, Katniss dear?"

I feel a small heat come to my cheeks, and turn away so she can't see. "The Baker is retiring. Peeta Mellark is taking over the business, and he's invited me to a party."

Mother gets that almost smug grin on her face, the one she has taken to wearing more and more whenever Peeta is mentioned. "Oh. That's nice, dear."

I want to wipe that smug grin right off her mouth. Just for that, I decide right then and there that I will go. I have something to prove. To prove that there is  _nothing_  between Peeta Mellark and I. And, also, the thought of giving his bigoted mother a heart attack is an opportunity too good to pass up.

And indeed, the Witch's eyes nearly pop out of her head when I arrive at the Bakery a few days later. But her reaction doesn't matter. I am here to support Peeta, who looks ecstatic to see me. Even the Baker offers me a warm pat on the shoulder, clearly pleased that I came.

* * *

I hurry to the Mellark Bakery after my hunts one morning. I have a very important errand that I have to complete for Prim, which is why I don't make my presence known from the rear loading dock the way I usually do. Julie, Peeta's sister-in-law and his brother Rye's wife, looks up from the cash register and smiles. She calls over her shoulder:

"Peeta! Someone to see you, honey!" Then she winks at me, which oddly makes me blush. Peeta enters from the rear hallway leading to the storerooms, wiping his hands on a tea towel. He smiles when he sees me.

"Katniss!" he crosses up to behind the counter. "I must say, this makes for a nice change. I've never seen you come in from the front before."

I smile as I dump the bag of squirrels on the counter. "For your father."

Peeta nods and hands them off to Julie. "Take these to the back, please."

Julie nods. "Bye, Katniss!"

After a moment, Peeta's mother comes in and begins busying herself at the far end of the counter near the pastries. She's a witch of a woman, a point made clear when she notices me and softly clucks in disapproval.

"And, aside from the squirrels..." Peeta drolls as he pays me on his dad's behalf. "What else can I do for you?"

"I have some amazing news!" I tell him. "Primrose is getting married!"

Peeta blinks, then chuckles. "So, that Rory Hawthorne finally got off his ass, did he?"

I gape at him, half shocked, half amused. "It wasn't like that!" I protest. "He's been saving up for months to buy a ring! Besides," and here I smirk as I deliver my prodding challenge, "I bet you couldn't do any better with a proposal!"

Peeta's gaze suddenly gets very intense. "Actually, I have," he murmurs quietly. The reminder of his proposal from four years ago makes me tug at my braid self-consciously. "But, if you insist on a do-over..." Peeta suddenly takes my hand in his. With a voice both at once dramatic and deadly seriously, he asks, "Katniss Everdeen, will you marry me?"

We both hear the Witch make a deliriously satisfying choking sound from down the counter. Laughing, I toss his hand away... even if my heart begins to pound at the sincerity I heard in his voice. "You tease! Anyway, I came down here as I was hoping you might bake the wedding cake for Prim."

"Tell Prim I would be more than honored," Peeta smiles. "And before you say anything: no charge, no trade, no nothing! This one's on me."

Now, the Witch makes a little yelp - the kind that must be elicited as a good job's profits go down the drain.

I give Peeta's hand a squeeze. "Thank you. And... you're welcome to stay for the reception after you make the delivery."

Peeta peers at me, surprised by my welcoming nature. "Is this a date?"

I find my face flushing and tuck my braid back behind my ear. "No," but my voice sounds hollow, even to my own ears.

Peeta doesn't miss a beat, or look disappointed. "Sure. I'll stay for a bit."

"OK. Gotta go. Thanks Peeta!" And I race out the door.

* * *

Prim and Rory's wedding and subsequent toasting are beautiful.

They are assigned a home in the Seam, a decent distance from the mines where Rory now works, but not too far. My 18-year-old baby sister, now a young woman, looks radiant as she and her new husband share the first dance. Just as it begins, Peeta enters with an immaculate wedding cake. I have seen a lot of the young Mellark's creations, and I have to admit, this is probably his finest, as all the guests Ooh and Aah over it. Indeed, they seem reluctant to eat it, or even slice it.

I sidle up to Peeta and give him a hug, encouraging him once again to stay and enjoy the celebration. The beauty of his confectionary creation leaves me feeling indebted all over again, as I ask, "How can I ever thank you?"

"Just one thing," Peeta grins. He holds out his hand. "Care to dance?"

I blink, taken aback, but pleased too. "All right." I take his hand.

His one hand goes about my waist, near the small of my back, and we begin a slow waltz. My free hand goes about Peeta's neck, playing at the nape of his hair there.

"That cake you made was beautiful," I express, my voice thick as Peeta twirls me about the room. "The best ever."

Peeta beams, as if my words have heated his whole being. "I thought you might like it. And that is quite a compliment."

For a while, we lose each other in conversation, in the music. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Prim watching us intently and giggling like a little schoolgirl to her new husband. I can only imagine what she is speculating, so I try to ignore it.

Even as my heart pounds whilst I gaze into those eyes as blue as a summer sky.


	4. I Don't Need You to Save Me

**Chapter 4: I Don't Need You to Save Me**

Rory and Prim Hawthorne start their shared lives off as poor as church mice. But they look so happy together, I have to wonder if they even know how miserable they are. They probably don't. It's not as though either one of our families has known anything else besides being poor.

Even so, for the first year of their marriage, the couple struggles to get on their feet. Rory works more and more in the mines, accruing longer and longer hours. I know he is busting his backside in the hopes of getting a promotion, possibly to Foreman, but is it really worth the cost? Once Primrose inherits the Healing business from our mother, their income will increase decently, enough for them to make ends meet even if Rory just remains on the digging crew.

But that's exactly the problem. Both my and Rory's fathers were on the digging crew, when they got killed in that explosion. And there hasn't been an accident at the mines in months, thank Panem! If Rory suffers the same fate as his father, Primrose will go the way of Mother in grief. Prim and Rory grew up as schoolchildren together; they've been in love since before they were old enough to be Reaped.

My fears for my family exacerbate even more when Primrose announces that she is pregnant. I fear for my unborn niece or nephew. A combined miner and healer's salary is barely enough to raise one child on; I still have no idea how Mother and Daddy managed to do it with two daughters. And if something ever happens to Rory...

I want to help them. And I do, in any way I can. I force myself to hunt harder and farther, bringing down larger game and audaciously smuggling it inside the district under penalty of death. All so that Prim and Rory at least won't starve. But even these Herculean efforts are not enough.

So it is one day that I am walking into Town to make a last-minute trade, an almost defeated slump to my shoulders. I am staring at the ground so much that I bump right into... Peeta.

"Hey!" he tells me, his eyes earnest and sincere. "I was just coming to the Seam to find you. I have some news, and it might be beneficial to Prim and Rory." I draw my mouth into a hard line, confused but also curious. Peeta takes a deep breath. He isn't going to propose to me yet again, is he? Besides, what does that have to do with Prim and Rory? But what Peeta says instead nevertheless still leaves me in disbelief:

"I have taken out tesserae, and intend to forward all of it to Prim and Rory."

I gape at him. Usually, teenagers take out tesserae - an extra ration of oil and grain - to better feed their families. But the price has always been extra slips of your name in the Reaping Bowl. I took out tessera at that age, as it was a good supplement to my hunts, and I wasn't about to let Primrose do it. But even if you survive the Reaping, some adults still adhere to the practice, even if it now only means sacrificing some of your business's income. But for Peeta to do this... for my family... For one mad moment, I consider...

* * *

_I angrily bunch Peeta's tunic in my fists, and his eyes go wide with fear. He must see the expression on my face, and guess that I am incredibly angry with him._

**_"I didn't... I'm sorry... I should have checked with you..."_ **

_He is cut off as my resolved face relaxes, softens only slightly and I bash my lips against his in a fierce kiss. The Baker stiffens in my grasp for a moment, before I suddenly feel arms slip about my waist in a tender embrace, as he kisses me back..._

* * *

I don't do this, of course, even if for the briefest instant, I entertain kissing the Baker senseless for his generosity. Instead, I let my anger take over not in passionate gratitude and affection, but rather just plain anger.

"Are you  _crazy_?" I screech at him. "And risk your business go down the drain? What would your mother think? She'll lose it!"

"I only have to surrender some of my income to the government, and it really isn't a lot!" Peeta tries to talk me down. "And I don't care what my mother thinks!"

"Well, you better at least care about what  _I_  think!" I snap. "I don't need you to save me, Peeta! And neither does my family!"

"Katniss, I know how you feel about owing somebody; we've discussed this. But this isn't about you; it's about Prim and Rory and your little niece or nephew. Take it for them, at least!"

I glare at him murderously, before snatching the bundle he holds out to me. "Thank you," I say stiffly. "But don't  _ever_  do this again." And I turn tail and run before he can say another word.

* * *

Beyond that night, I continue to trade at the Mellark Bakery. But I don't come through the front door anymore, the way I began to do with impunity, in the comfort that Peeta would always be there to accept my wares with a friendly smile in open defiance of his mother. And at the back door of the loading dock now, my trades with Peeta are curt, correct, clipped and distinctly colder.

And nothing has changed one morning when I drop Peeta off another round of squirrels. When he opens the door, he looks stressed, as if he is in the middle of something. "Thank you, Katniss."

And indeed, when I peer around him, I can see his mother, the Witch, shooting daggers at me. Clearly, I have interrupted something, for I also notice a pretty blond Merchant woman who looks about my age - 24. I think she is the daughter of the haberdasher. Loud enough for me to hear, the Witch says, "Now, Leena, I know Peeta is a little reticent - after all, he has a business to run - but I am sure he would  _love_  to marry you!"

I nearly drop my game bag. The bitch is marrying her youngest son off? Like he's one of the loaves of bread he sells day in and day out? Peeta notices the shock in my eyes, and perhaps also a little concern, for he silently pleads with me to leave before his mother decides to run me off the property.

I flee, the pounding of the rain thankfully masking the traitorous tears clinging to my cheeks. Tears of anguish as I stew in my jealousy...


	5. Light Up the Night Sky

**Chapter 5: Light Up the Night Sky**

That muggy, wet summer mercifully ends, giving way to a still fall. There has been no news about Peeta Mellark getting married to Leena or any other Merchant trophy woman. Not even so much as an announcement of an engagement. Not that I care. Of course I don't care! Why should I care?

When District 12 finally announces the date for our annual Fall Festival - a bridge point between the end of the Hunger Games and the beginning of the Victory Tour this winter - Prim announces that she and Rory and the baby are going. And that I, in no uncertain terms, are to accompany them. Clearly, my smart, sassy baby sister has seen how I have spent this summer moping about and with no desire to tell her why. I can't even admit why to myself. Even if I wasn't in such a mood, I don't do parties. But Primrose makes it clear that there is no room for argument. She even gets Rory to back her up. I'm boxed out. I have no choice.

So it is that I don my blue Reaping dress with a scowl. Do up my hair in the single braid running down my back. Calling to Mother that I should not be gone long - I don't intend to stay more than an hour, in the hopes that this will at least please my sister and my brother-in-law - I leave for the Festival.

I curse my eyes for seeking him out right away, but they do with impunity. I disown my heart for the way it alights in relief when I see that Leena tramp is nowhere to be seen. But he has still been arranged to be with her. Right? Even if there has yet been no word. The logic that I force to enter my brain tampers my demeanor all over again. When Peeta's gaze meets mine through the crowd, I can only turn away sadly.

The Festival kicks off well, at first. There is dancing, and when Rory playfully asks me for a spin (much to Prim's chagrin), I laugh for the first time in what feels like months. As Rory twirls me about exuberantly - he  _is_  rather light on his feet - I cannot help but shake the feeling that someone is watching me.

All at once, the lights go out. Bulbs hanging on tent poles around the festival flicker and die, plunging the square in front of the Justice Building into darkness.

Pandemonium breaks out. I feel a crunch of bodies around me, forcing Rory to let go of me, so that we become separated. A cacophony of voices calling out names rises up: "John! Lillian! Grace!"

"Katniss!" It must be my imagination. I can't even tell for certain if it was my name that  _was_  spoken aloud, maybe someone was calling for a woman named  _'Katherine'_. I stumble into what looks like an alleyway, from the dark shapes looming up about me. Where the hell are Prim and Rory?

"Katniss!" Someone grabs my arm, and I turn about gratefully. The voice is male, but it isn't Rory. It's  _him_. "There you are!"

"I've gotta go find my family!"

"Let me help! I'll get you out of here! The Peacekeepers think the blackout might be a rebel attack!"

 _They're always saying it's a rebel attack when something goes wrong with the electricity_ , I think darkly. Cray really has no shame. "I don't need anything tonight!" I snarl, twisting out of Peeta's grip. "I can find my way home without you!"

Peeta looks resigned. "All right. Then find your way home." Our gazes lock one last time, before we finally tear ourselves away, sprinting in different directions.

It isn't long before the inky blackness is suddenly broken by piercing WHEEZES and BOOMS. The Peacekeepers have resorted to sending up fireworks, flares, in the hopes that folks can return to their homes by their light and meet curfew a little earlier than planned. I am dodging people dashing in every direction, calling Prim and Rory's names intermittently.

All at once, I slam into a body. Feel a pair of arms go about my waist to catch my stumble. My palms press into a sturdy chest as I break my own fall. Startled, eyes full of fear, my brown orbs snap up to gaze into  _his_  blue eyes... eyes as blue as a summer sky.

I feel my eyelids droop heavily. In the next instant, Peeta Mellark yanks me closes and kisses me full on the mouth, just as a giant firework screams into the nighttime sky. I stiffen in utter surprise for just a moment. But his lips taste so good, so steady and hard and unyielding when pressed tightly against my pliant ones... that I relent.

My eyes fall closed. My face sags. My entire body wilts, relaxes in his embrace as I kiss Peeta Mellark back. While flares explode around us in the autumn nighttime sky.


	6. Please Don't Leave Me

**Chapter 6: Please Don't Leave Me**

The fallout from Peeta's and my stolen kiss at the Fall Festival fiasco explodes with the force of a bomb. Apparently, the mother of that Leena tramp saw us kissing each other's faces off and reported to the Witch.

The gossip mills whirling around the Seam only get crazier from there. Apparently, the Witch went ballistic - the one rumor I am almost certain is true and need not be confirmed. And that's not all. Peeta reportedly stood up to his mother, openly declared his love for me, and flat-out refused to marry any woman who isn't me (this point makes my entire body warm by several degrees when Greasy Sae first relays it to me over a bowl of hot soup). In a fit of rage, the Witch threw Peeta out, disowned him and banished him to the Seam to "go be with [his] slutty mistress." Me. I laugh uproariously at this. If I'm a slut, then the Witch is President Snow. My mirth quickly cools into concern, however, and I pray that that final rumor is not true.

But I quickly discover that it is all too true, as I am horrified to find a sooted Peeta among the miners at lunch hour one day, as I come to bring Rory his lunch in Prim's stead. She would have taken it herself, but couldn't on account of the baby, Willow (who isn't such a baby anymore; she's walking now).

* * *

A few days later, I hear the mine exploding all the way from the woods beyond the fence. Heart in my mouth, I dash back under the chain-link and sprint madly to the edge of the Seam. Fire is raging up from the earth itself. The elevator is screeching and straining as the Foreman pounds his fist into the lift button, unable to get the elevator through its trips fast enough.

As more and more injured miners emerge, I scan the crowd frantically for one head of hair that remains blond even now, refusing to let the grey and soot tame it. I barely note how my brother-in-law is safe among the survivors, being attended to on a gurney, so distressed am I to find him.

On the last elevator load up before Cray orders a reluctant Foreman to halt the lifts, I see him. Peeta. He is worse for wear, being carried in the muscular arms of a giant miner, Thom. Thom is an old friend of Gale's and has for years been the head of the digging crew. When he sees me, he has no qualms about passing Peeta off into my arms. I sink to my knees with his body, sitting on the ground with his head nestled in my lap. I let the tears fall onto his upturned face unbidden, no longer caring if anyone gawks at the sight of Katniss Everdeen - the stubborn bachelorette, the hardened shrew - weeping like a baby and lost in love.

"Peeta... please open your eyes. Please, please, please don't leave me!" Smushing my face into his cheek, taking a shuddering breath as I whisper, "I love you!" Gulping down another sob, I soldier bravely on, even as I become aware that most of the mine and rescue operation has fallen quiet to stare at us. Watch the show. "Peeta, please live for me! Live for me! I will marry you!"

As I bend down to kiss the man I love... he opens his eyes. It is as if my kiss has awakened him.

"Katniss..." he croaks. I clap an amazed hand to my mouth, biting back the strangled sob.

"Oh my God!"

"Careful, mines can kill you," he cracks. I tearfully laugh and overcome with emotion, I kiss him again.

"Katniss... did you mean what you just said? About marrying me?"

My jaw hangs slack in disbelief, my cheeks on fire. "How much did you hear?"

He weakly smirks. "All of it. And the answer is Yes. I accept. I want to marry you too."

I beam down radiantly at him. "OK," I murmur quietly, betraying my vow of chastity with little fanfare, killing it once and for all.

Though I note, as Peeta and I lovingly kiss again, that vow has been dead for a while. Right now, I am ready to make a new one.

* * *

Mother offers to have me wear her wedding dress, the Merchant garment she stole when she fled from her privileged life to the Seam to marry my Daddy. Being a simple girl in my tastes, I gently refuse. I know that there is only one thing I want to marry Peeta in: the blue Reaping dress. The one I wore when he proposed to me the first time, after our last Reaping all those years ago.

Thus, on a beautiful early summer's day just after my 25th birthday, dampened by a pounding, humid rain, Peeta Mellark and I get married in my mother's living room. Prim and Rory and little Willow stand in attendance alongside Mother. The Baker makes an appearance, along with Peeta's brother Rye and his wife Julie. The Witch refused to show her face, even after Peeta - in an act of goodwill - asked if she would come. Good. We can do this without her.

Peeta Toasts the bread, as only a master Bake can, and we feed each other a piece. Then, harkening back to the first time we kissed, he pulls me into his arm. I lean against him with excited fear and only a flicker of hesitation that I quickly stamp out. Our whole lives are before us, filled with unknowns. But the only thing I know is that I need Peeta. I need him to be with me. And so, with my eyes full of love, my lips slightly parted, and my gaze solemn and intense, I tilt my head and permit my husband to kiss me passionately on the lips. I close my eyes, accepting the gesture, and return his kiss.

When Peeta and I break our marriage kiss at last, the entire living room bursts into applause. I dance with Peeta, and Rory, and the Baker, and even little Willow long into the night.


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The sun is not yet in the sky when my husband Peeta and I arrive at the mine's entrance to begin work.

"I really think you should quit soon, honey," Peeta is telling me for the third time since we got up this morning, as we pass each other our headlamps off the rack. "You miss the woods, I can tell, and... I worry that something's going to happen to you."

I smirk at him, plopping his helmet fully on his head as I give him an apologetic kiss. "Well, maybe I will quit... if I have a good enough reason to. Like, say... if we get pregnant."

Peeta nearly trips over his own two feet as he spins around from where he's been punching our clocks, to stare at me in amazement. "Katniss Everdeen Mellark, are you trying to tell me something?"

I grin impishly. "Nope. Believe me, if I was knocked up, you would know." I shrug. "But perhaps... someday."

Peeta has been begging me for the last ten years of our marriage to agree to having children. And every time, I have refused. Willow, our niece, is just a year away from becoming eligible for the Reaping, and that day is going to be hard enough as it is on us, never mind Prim and Rory. The Hunger Games have always made me refuse motherhood. I would only agree to bear a child if that cursed contest was abolished.

But now... perhaps with Peeta by my side, we would be OK. And maybe we could weather fearing for the safety of any child of ours during its teenage years.

Peeta must read these thoughts on my face, and has clearly worked out what they mean. His expression could light up the sun. Taking my face in his hands, he tilts my chin up so he can indecently kiss me full on the mouth. Tilts my face to his so far, and kisses me so hard, in fact, that my miner's headlamp tumbles off my head and plops into the dirt, forgotten. Meanwhile, I close my eyes and kiss him in return, moaning in pleasure until we gently break apart. I stare at my husband, startled by the intensity of his kiss, but also deeply aroused.

"I love you, Katniss," Peeta beams.

I smile back. "I love you too, Peeta," and even saying the words makes my eyes prick with happy tears.

* * *

I lift the ladle from the pot as I take a testing taste of the soup. Hearing a playful shriek from behind me, I turn.

"Chrissy," I murmur quietly. "Dinner's almost ready. Wash up; your father should be home soon."

I fell pregnant not long after the conversation with Peeta at the mines. The moment we learned the news, I quit my shift at the mines, much to the relief of Peeta and the consternation of Thom, the new Foreman. Rory was disappointed at being passed over for the top spot... until Thom assured him that he would be his chosen successor.

Nine months after I left the mines, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Our daughter. Peeta's and my daughter. Chrysanthemum. Peeta liked the idea of giving her a flower's name, the way that I was named, as well as Primrose. I agreed, on the condition that we pick some pretty name of a bread for her middle name. Mother and The Baker adore her. The Witch has never met her, and that suits me just fine. She doesn't want to know her grandchild? Fine. At least Chrissy has plenty of cousins to play with: Willow and her many Mellark relatives.

Just as Chrysanthemum takes a seat at the table, I hear the latch at the front door turn. Peeta drags himself in, exhausted... at least until I perk him up by running into his arms and bestowing on him a long kiss in greeting. "Well, good evening to you too, sweetheart," he chuckles, his energy restored.

I smile shyly back. "Supper's ready, my love."

And my husband and I sit with our little girl, ready to tell each other about our days.


End file.
